Everleigh
I slowly run my fingers over my skirt, pressing them against the elastic waistband before pushing beneath it.
As my palm covers the damp fabric of my panties, a tingling wave of pleasure soars through me from my chest to my core, not stopping until it dies out at my toes.
I dip my hand inside—imagining it’s a man’s hand—running the tip of my middle finger through my slick and inviting opening.
Before I’m able to go any farther, a knock sounds at my door causing me to tear my hand out from between my legs.
The sudden arrival of whoever is on the other side forces a gasp of surprise from me...
A yelp of horror at what I was fantasizing over...
One of frustration at feeling dirty for liking it as much as I did.
I really need to give myself a break. I’m not doing anything wrong. Meagan might have been right about that stick.
As I try to ignore the intrusion and give in to my subconscious, a voice filters through from the other side of the door.
“Everleigh?”
Henri? What is he doing here? I thought he was long gone by now. My heart beats violently against my chest at his unexpected arrival. I can’t face him as worked up as I am. I could do something stupid like pull him in here and take him up on his offer of spending the night with me.
When I don’t act immediately, he repeats himself and twists the doorknob. Which I’m now noticing I, stupidly, never locked. I should have, but I was too preoccupied to even think of it.
I practically tumble ass over elbows as I catapult myself out of bed and lunge for the door so I can lock it before he’s able to get it open.
However, before I make it there, something stops me.
My entire body halts, my mouth closes, and my hand—the one I just had between my legs—is frozen in midair, still outstretched toward my doorknob.
He’s back.
If he ever left to begin with.
Another knock sounds, my stomach roiling as I wait for the door to open. But it doesn’t. Looking at the doorknob once again, I see it’s locked now.
He locked it.
God! Did he see me? Was he watching as I touched myself? Embarrassment washes over me like a tsunami at the thought of it.
I watch the door wiggle in its frame as Henri continues to try to make his way into my room.
“Everleigh? I found one of your earrings in my car. I just want to return it to you.”
A light breeze creeps toward me as I feel a cold draft float through the air from an unknown origin.
It causes my hair to stand on end, and though I somehow know he won’t hurt me, this is vastly different from any other encounter we’ve had before.
From the corner of my eye, I watch him take purposefully slow, threatening steps toward me until he’s so close I’m certain he can feel me trembling.
He dips his head until his mouth is level with my ear.
“Everleigh...” Whispering, he draws the sound of my name out as though he can’t bear the idea of it not being on his tongue.
A chorus of hushed, “Everleighs” floats through the room.
At first I think it’s an echo he’s created, but each time it’s spoken in a different tone, as though there’s more than one person in the room with him.
Each one drawn out just like the first, with a palpable ache to them that’s both staggering and alluring.
My eyes close, unable to face him when he’s making me feel the way he is right now. The way he made me feel just before I…
Started fingering yourself...
“Stop it...” He allows me to speak but only at a volume that’s barely audible.
You can’t deny you didn’t like what you felt. How you felt doing it.
As he recites my truth to me, he pulls my curls away from my ear so he has better access to it My body tremors with anticipation. A slight tug of an errant strand of hair never fazed me until it was his fingers doing the wrenching.
Is Henri still at the door? Still twisting the knob? Still calling out for me? I don’t know anymore. I can’t hear anything, can’t see or feel anything other than...
Him.
“Why are you punishing me? You obviously know what happened at dinner, what a horrible letdown this evening has been. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
“This isn’t a punishment, Everleigh. It’s an awakening.”
Gripping my chin firmly in his hand, he forces my attention on him.
When we’re face-to-face, I whimper at the man looking back at me.
Hidden in part by a mask that covers the left side of his face, the half of him I can see is handsome, chiseled...
Dangerous. His mysterious, midnight blue eyes gleam in the dim light of my room, and my body begs to get lost in them.
I yearn to know why he feels the need to keep any piece of himself hidden from the world.
Is this why he never let me see him before? Is he worried I would judge him? Make fun of him? Think him unworthy?
My fingers itch to remove it to see the man underneath for who he really is.
Before I’m able to move, he grasps my hand. The hand. The one which is still damp with my arousal from its inquest of my wet slit moments ago.
“You’re right, tonight you deserve to be celebrated.”
He brings my fingers to his nose, and I can feel my face heat with embarrassment as I realize what he’s about to do.
After flooding my cheeks, blood shoots straight to my core the moment he inhales the scent left behind on my skin.
If that wasn’t torture enough, the dilation of his pupils coupled with the smug smile he flashes me as his tongue slides over my fingers, gathering my essence as it goes, causes my nipples to harden.
“Oh, Everleigh...” he moans before closing his lips around the base of my fingers and sucking what’s left into his mouth.
Our eyes stay firmly locked onto one another’s as he laps away at my arousal, one hand holding mine firmly at his lips so I’m unable to pull away until he’s had his fill.
The other hand begins to bunch the fabric covering my legs together, lifting it to allow him better access to parts of me no one else has ever seen or touched.
I don’t know whether I should stop him or plead for him to go faster, but I find myself unable to fight against what’s happening. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to resist something that feels so … good. So right. So perfect.
So don’t, Everleigh. Don’t deny yourself... Don’t deny us... Let us celebrate you the way you want and deserve to be celebrated. The way you’re craving to be celebrated.
“Us?” I question with a shaky breath.
When he ignores my query, his finger brushing over the drenched fabric of my panties, there is nothing I can do to quiet the moan his touch elicits from me.
My eyes break free of his and slide down my body to where his hand is swallowed by my skirt.
I’m unnerved by the way I’m feeling … embarrassed by the noises escaping my lips, but the pleasure he’s giving me, even having barely touched me, is too strong for even a prude like me to ignore.
“You’re not a prude.” His words reassure me as my eyes meet his again. They hold me captive as he runs the tip of his tongue between my middle and pointer fingers slowly … seductively. “You have standards. And class.”
I watch as a look of savage intemperance shadows his stare.
“And that is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Another lick as his sly stare holds me hostage as much as his hands do. As much as his mind does.
“But we’re looking forward to introducing you to the darkness. Our darkness. The only place we’re free to be our true selves. Where we get to dabble in madness and lose ourselves in debauchery.”
We?
“We.” He nods to a place behind me, and I can feel my heart rate quicken.
Is someone else here? Who is it? Have they been here this whole time? How did they get here? Before I get any answers, three of the most dangerously attractive men I’ve ever seen—besides the one in front of me—step around us and stand shoulder to shoulder next to him.
One with eyes as dark as the night sky outside my window, which shimmer with pure infatuation. He’s huge, looming over the rest of us. Brutish.
Another one has a slightly smaller build with eyes that appear soft. But the desperation in them is disarming, so much so that it greatly overshadows the fact that he’s missing one of his arms. He does nothing to hide it, nor should he, unlike the way he hides his face.
The third mystery man looks every bit as handsome and dangerous as the others, with a cunning stare that slices through me.
My breath hitches at the sight of them as well as from the knowledge of how easily they could overpower me. The thudding in my chest grows stronger, and my toes curl at the thought that I may like what they have planned for me.
“We’re the dark shadows looming in each and every corner and crevice of this godforsaken opera house.”
Holy shit.
“Four … ghosts?”
“Not ghosts, Everleigh... Though not all of us are entirely human.”
Not human?
I close my eyes tightly, trying to comprehend too much too fast.
Supernatural beings?
Desire for the dark unknown with four strangers...
Whatever is happening right now is so far beyond my realm of understanding, I latch on to the easiest part of it and concentrate on that.
Opening my eyes again, I stare directly at him.
“If you don’t like it here, why do you stay?”
The four of them smirk—each one slightly different—and look at one another with amusement that makes me incredibly curious. They all know something I’m not privy to. I look around, searching each of their faces to and to get an idea of what it could be.
“Isn’t that obvious?” The brute crosses his arms and widens his stance.
Apparently not.
“You, Everleigh.” Soft Eyes raises his lone hand then gently grips my chin. “We’ve become utterly infatuated with you. And through our thorough observations...”
I swallow hard. How much of me have they observed?
“We've gotten to know the real you.” The cunning one speaks next. “The girl underneath that innocent disposition and frilly tutu.”
“You have no idea who I am,” I challenge.